


Please, Shine Down On Me

by ameliaproblems



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Werewolf!AU, high school!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliaproblems/pseuds/ameliaproblems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The irony of moving to Washington during his junior year of high school is not lost on Zayn. It’s apparently not lost on Doniya either, who is staying behind to finish at uni, because she gives him a copy of Twilight as a going away gift. Maybe she should've gotten him a DVD of Teen Wolf instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, Shine Down On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vastlyunknown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vastlyunknown/gifts).



> This would not exist without [Héla's](http://awoopsehdaiseh.tumblr.com/) unwavering enthusiasm and encouragement.
> 
> Also, a shout out to [Aimée](http://zaynophilic.tumblr.com/), who did me a huge favor by beta-ing this, and kicking my ass into gear to turn a series of scenes sent to Héla via chat into a coherent piece that I'm really proud of.
> 
> Thank you, both of you!

The irony of moving to Washington during his junior year of high school is not lost on Zayn. It’s apparently not lost on Doniya either, who is staying behind to finish at uni, because she gives him a copy of Twilight as a going away gift, with a Post-It note stuck to the cover that says “it’s better than Googling ‘vampires’ like a moron.” 

Zayn’s mother moved Zayn, and his two younger sisters to the States because she had inherited her eccentric aunt’s quilting shop. The letter from the lawyer in charge of executing her will was accompanied by a business plan forwarded by a boy who worked in the shop, named Harry Styles. 

In the plan he detailed a timeline in which he hoped to become a partner in the business, a plan that required Mrs. Malik not sell the shop. The Maliks had been planning to move to the States for a while, not until after Zayn left for uni, but they decided this was the perfect opportunity to start a new life. An already established business in a place familiar, at least to Zayn’s parents, was too good to pass up.

————

At seventeen years old Zayn has perfected the art of introversion. His large sweaters, tight pants, glasses, and messenger bag are enough to convince people that he’s just another hipster wannabe that they tend to avoid him. 

The only reason he had any friends at all in Bradford, he’s convinced, is because his older sister threatened to beat up the neighborhood lads if they didn’t make nice. They mostly just tolerated him anyway. But Zayn is content to be alone, nose buried in his sketchbook, fingers covered in graphite and ink.

He is shocked, however, by Harry and Niall, who seem to latch onto him from day one. He tells himself that Harry is just sucking up to him because his mom is Harry’s boss, but he has no idea why Niall insists on passing the basketball to Zayn, or shouting encouragement to him from the sidelines when he’s the last one to finish the mile run in gym class. 

Niall also insists on following Zayn to the store every day after school, so he can make heart-eyes at Harry while he pretends to browse for fabrics his “mother requested” he get on his way home. He never buys anything. Harry doesn’t even notice, too busy blushing and tripping over things, preening at the attention he gets from Niall.

Every day is minefield, avoiding girls (and some guys) in the hallway who always turn around and stare as he walks by; some of them all but throwing things in his direction, loudly exclaiming that they dropped it and could Zayn pick it up, even going to so far as to shove other people out of the way if they try to help. 

He hears Niall and Harry whisper about him, about how he has no clue that his god-like looks and accent, and general broody loner look have every girl in the school drooling after him. No clue at all. Complete oblivion. But he knows they’re just kidding around.

Harry and Niall giggle every time a girl “accidentally” bumps into him in the hallway, waiting with bated breath for him to mumble “excuse me” or “sorry” in that ‘totally hot accent, just like RPattz’. Zayn finds himself smiling along with the two boys, just enjoying being included for once, drinking it in while he can.

————

Zayn’s bedroom window faces the backyard with a small, flat balcony jutting from the side of the house. There’s a trellis that goes down the side of window all the way to the lawn below, past the kitchen window. He likes to smoke on the balcony because the distinctive smelling smoke usually flows away from the house, so he won’t get caught.

The lot backs up onto the woods that surround the town he lives in; and he likes to sketch the creatures he imagines would live in woods like that, classic American monsters, and things he just made up.

He is so engrossed in his drawing that he thinks he’s dreaming when something actually walks out of the woods onto the grass of Zayn’s lawn on the night of the full moon. It looks like a dog, but it’s humongous, even from Zayn’s vantage point on the roof; the giant animal is flopped down in the middle of the backyard, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. What’s the harm in taking a better look. Zayn is sure that he can stay out of danger, but still be close enough to see.

He underestimates how dark it is beneath the trees, so he gets almost to the bottom before he can make a decision. Zayn is fairly sure it’s just a huge dog, the way it’s sitting, enticing him to find out if its belly is as soft as it looks. 

Once he gets onto the grass though, he realizes that it’s even bigger than he initially thought. He really needs to start wearing his glasses while at home. Sharp teeth glint in the bright light of the full moon. What the fuck? Those are some big teeth. He could see that the fur that he thought was black was actually gray, and extremely thick. The pointed ears and long muzzle could be from a husky, but none of his neighbors had huskies. Fuck.

He tries to back up and start his way back up to his room before the wolf notices he’s made it to the grass, but it’s too late. Zayn thinks he has seconds to make peace with this world, but the wolf comes to a stop at Zayns feet, its head cocked to the side in confusion.  
As if to ask how Zayn could want to leave. They haven’t even played yet, no head pats or belly scritches have happened.

When Zayn puts one foot up onto the trellis the wolf whines, a low and pitiful noise that sounds like it’s been ripped from its throat. He decides that it couldn’t hurt to humor the massive animal, that it might get bored and go back into the woods, leaving Zayn in peace. 

So he reaches a tentative hand out in front of himself. A big wet nose snuffles along his wrist, seemingly content to just sniff. 

Zayn doesn’t dare breathe, not wanting to make any movements that will end with his hand in the wolf’s mouth, or his death; but the wolf doesn’t seem to have any such plans, plopping down on the ground at Zayn’s feet, his head on his paws, one eye open, looking at Zayn, silently asking “are you going to sit with me? Or no?”

He sits with the wolf for a few hours, memorizing the different colors in its fur and identifying the places where the fur is softer, his fear slipping away in the face of what is essentially a gigantic puppy that just wants to rest its head in Zayn’s lap and sleep.

In the wee hours of the morning Zayn is startled awake by the sudden cold he feels, his eyes pop open to see his wolf disappear into the woods. He stands up, knees cracking, and crawls back through his window, and into his bed.

————

The day after Zayn's encounter with the wolf is extremely strange. When he woke he had been half convinced that he dreamt the whole thing, but his trainers were caked in mud from the lawn, making a mess of his floor that would be hard to explain to his mum.

His parents had gotten him a small used pick-up truck, that he refuses to tell his sister about, even though it's so cool, because god, could he be anymore Bella Swan in this truck in Washington.

Zayn makes his way to school a little bit earlier than usual, feeling unusually invigorated for someone who despises mornings. He sits in his truck for a little while, the after-market stereo continuing to play long after the engine's been turned off. 

He is just watching his fellow classmates, noticing how Tuesdays seem to be even more brutal than Monday, the memory of last weekend long gone and the coming weekend far in the future. Zayn is startled out of his musings by a tap on his window, he slowly turns to see a grinning boy in a letterman jacket. “Shit.”

The boy in the window can apparently hear Zayn, because his face drops a little when he swears. He is undeterred, though, motioning for Zayn to roll down the window. Zayn wants to ignore him, but he's just as powerless against these big brown eyes as he was against last night's. With the glare of the glass no longer between them, Zayn sees pink cheeks, like the boy ran across the parking lot to get to his door.

Once the window is all the way down, the boy puts his arm into the space so Zayn can't change his mind. His nose twitches, and he lets out a contented little sigh. Who the fuck is this guy?!

"Zayn, right? I'm Liam! Just wanted to welcome you to Forest Ridge High!"

“I’ve been here for three weeks.”

Liam looks so sad, like a tiny puppy that’s just been told no for the first time. Zayn wants to crawl under the seat and hide. “Sorry, I’m not great at meeting new people.” He rubs his hand over his face, embarrassed. Liam grabs his hand, noticing the small drawings that he had done on himself at the breakfast table that morning.

“Sick! Is that a wolf?! That’s so cool, man!”

The flush spreads from Zayn’s cheeks down his neck, as Liam swipes his thumb over the veins on the back of Zayn’s hand a few times, seemingly unconsciously.

In the classes they share together, Liam trades seats with almost everyone in the room to get to the seat next to Zayn. At the end of their first shared class, Zayn stretches, an hour of math is no one’s favorite. 

Over the sound of his cracking back, Zayn hears a sharp intake of air, looking to the side he sees Liam, his eyes glued to the small strip of skin revealed when Zayn lifted his arms.

Zayn can’t escape Liam, not that he really wants to, he even sits with Zayn, Harry, and Niall at lunch, the entirety of the football team trailing behind him. The scrape of chairs and tables being moved to accommodate them seems to last forever. It’s mortifying, Zayn feels everyone staring at him, wondering why Liam could possibly want to sit with him.

Things just get worse, Liam is everywhere. He waits for Zayn at his locker after school, walking him to his truck. He talks to Zayn about the comic books he was reading, having noticed Zayn’s copy of Ghost Rider sticking out of his notebook. 

Zayn is so unused to this level of attention, wondering if maybe this was all an elaborate ruse. Liam is the quarterback, the literal star of the team. What could possibly be interesting enough about Zayn to warrant this level of awareness?

————

“Zayn, you have to go!” Niall whines , picking at a spool of thread sitting on the counter. Zayn is inputting the new markdown prices onto the computer for his mom. Harry is restocking the shelves, like he did every Thursday night.

“No, that’s fine. I’m watching the store so Harry can go.”

“Your mom said she would be in tomorrow, and she wants you to go and have fun,” Harry shouts from behind one of the displays.

“Liam wants you to go. He asked that you specifically come. He told me.” Niall is practically begging. Zayn is sure that Liam didn’t actually say any of this, but Niall probably wants him to keep Harry company during the game.

It might be fun, he’s never seen American football. And Harry’s always good for a laugh. Zayn would be lying to himself, though, if he didn’t also want to see Liam in those pants. Just because he had never seen a game doesn’t mean that he hasn’t seen pictures. And God, those pants. Are they really that tight?

“I’ll go to keep Harry company for you, no problem.”

Niall huffs , a look of pure frustration crossing his face, “But-”

“Great! I’ll meet you there at 6:45 tomorrow!” Harry clamps his hand over Niall’s mouth, dragging him away. Little snippets of their conversation make their way to Zayn, the furious whispering is too passionate to stay quiet at some points, “these things take time, Niall! You don’t want to scare him!” Who are they talking about? Zayn’s not scared of anyone.

————

Zayn is sitting in the stands, shivering and rubbing his hands together; cursing his need to wear the stupid leather jacket because it looked cooler than one of his huge, warm sweaters.

During half-time he contemplates just leaving, Liam didn't really need him there, he hasn’t even looked over at Zayn the whole first half. But as soon as he convinces himself to go, while Harry is getting himself nachos at the concession stand (ok, maybe Zayn is a little scared of Harry), he hears a small psst coming from behind him. He looks around, but no one is there, then he feels a tap on his lower back. Zayn peers through the space in the bleachers to see Liam.

"Hey, I noticed you looked cold, so I brought you this, but I gotta get back or Coach is gonna kill me." Liam shoves his letterman jacket onto the seat next to Zayn and sprints back to the locker room. Niall winks at Zayn from the door he has been holding for Liam, acting as lookout.

Zayn convinces himself that no one was staring at him by concentrating on the musky smell that surrounds him, keeping him nice and cozy.

————

Zayn waits around on the bleachers awkwardly once the game is over. He is waging an internal war with himself to stay there. He wants to leave with the jacket wrapped tight around himself. If he’s honest with himself he’ll admit that he never wants to take it off, but he knows that he needs to return the jacket. Liam probably just felt bad for him and did him a small favor.

So Zayn waits. He watches the cheerleaders run into the arms of the players, he watches Harry run into Niall’s arms in perfect imitation, shoving Barbara out of the way. The blonde boy picks up and spins Harry around like they’re in some teen romance flick. They fall to the ground, Harry’s height toppling them, but they won’t stop smiling at each other and giggling.

He notices how Liam stiffens when he’s approached by other players and a long line of cheerleaders, his nose crinkling. Once Liam has finished his performance as the stereotypical quarterback jock, all chest bumps and sweaty hugs, he seems to sniff the air, trying to find something.

Eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, meet Zayn’s. He’s found what he’s looking for. Zayn knows that it’s time; that he needs to return the soft leather and wool jacket to its rightful owner, to go home and pretend that his bed is warm enough.

Liam makes his way up the bleachers, taking two steps at a time. He must be in a hurry to get his jacket and head out to wherever the players go after games. He stops in front of Zayn, an expectant look on his face.

Zayn begins to shrug the jacket off, but he’s stopped by a warm hand on his shoulder, “Keep it on, it looks good on you. Just wanted to ask what you thought of the game.” Liam scratches the back of his head, looking suddenly nervous, and not at all the victorious warrior he did on the field, “I also wanted to ask if you’d come to the diner, it’s kind of an after game tradition.”

Zayn wants to say no to going to the diner, the thought of watching Liam with other people is almost enough to hurt. When had he become so invested in this boy? They don't even know each other. But he can't shake the feeling of being a moth, drawn the light of the moon. He only hopes that this isn't a lamp, luring him to his doom. 

Zayn can tell that Liam is drawn to him too, can pick him out of a crowd as if he's always aware of Zayn, like a low hum under the surface of his skin. The weird sniffing makes Zayn want to lift his arm and make sure he doesn't stink, but Liam doesn't look disgusted, just curious and a bit frustrated.

He agrees to go with Liam, hating how impossible it is to deny him. They walk to the parking lot, Harry and Niall scuffling playfully behind them. Zayn doesn't even remember how he got to the game, but he hopes that he didn't drive himself as he slides into the passenger seat of Liam's car.

The cool air hitting his face through the rolled down windows snaps Zayn out of his stupor. He looks over to see Liam staring intently at the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Are you ok? If you changed your mind about me coming, you can just drop me off at the corner, we're not that far from the school yet."

Liam doesn't say anything, just tightens his hands and continues driving. Zayn remembers how he felt when he first realized the animal in his yard was a wolf. He finds the door lock, readying himself to jump out the door of a moving vehicle in case this has all been some elaborate prank. He prays Niall and Harry had nothing to do with this, wonders if he was so obvious with his sexuality, replays every encounter, every moment since Liam sat down at his lunch table the first time. 

————

They pull into the parking lot of a small, silver mobile home with a huge sign on top that reads 'Louis' Diner' as the screech of tables in the cafeteria being moved to make space for all the football players around himself and Liam echoes through Zayn's head. 

There are around ten cars in the parking lot and a few more on the grass. Zayn is steeling himself for the other shoe to drop, but Liam just hops out of the car, taking deep gulps of air as he walks around to Zayn's door.

Zayn tries to make himself as small as possible, pulling the sleeves of the jacket over his hands and burrowing into it as deep as possible. He's satisfied just sitting in Liam's car. This is enough. But Liam has other plans. Something steps between the window and the parking light, casting a shadow over Zayn. The door opens and Liam crouches down, putting his big hand on Zayn's knee. "Zayn, you have no idea how badly I want you here with me."

Zayn looks away, feeling like a girl. Wishing he had said no. This is too much. Too much raw emotion. It makes him anxious. "Didn't Niall tell you I wanted you at the game? It wasn't a lie. He wasn't messing with you." Zayn couldn't cover the wince. Liam sighed, squeezing Zayn's knee.

Zayn sees the rest of the team in the far corner of the diner, they are a loud and raucous crowd. Liam steers them to a booth in the opposite corner, nudging Zayn onto the seat, and then sitting on the same side. This is a power play. He sees the way the team looks at them, questioning if they should join, but they go back to their celebrating with a firm tilt of Liam's head.

Zayn can feel Liam watching him. Can feel the appreciative eyes. "I like you in my jacket," Zayn feels more than hears the murmured confession. He blurts "why are you doing this?" loudly enough that a few of the people at the other table look up.

"Doing what, Zayn? Trying to be your friend? Being nice?" Liam looks so much like a puppy in that moment. "I like you? Is that so hard to believe?" Zayn considers how long it would take him to slide under the table and crawl out, if he could make it to the door before Liam got a hold of him. "Did-did Niall tell you that-" 

Zayn doesn’t know what to say, nothing that he could take back, that's for sure. They are interrupted by a small man tapping his foot from the end if their booth. "Are you going to order something? Or are you and your minions going to just continue taking up space for actual customers?"

"Sorry, Lou. I'll have a water and a burger, no bun." The waiter, who Zayn thinks actually probably the owner, Louis, rolls his eyes. "A meal to keep your girlish figure and a free beverage, got it. And you, hot stuff?" Zayn blushes a deep red, sure he was imagining the low growl coming from the boy next to him. 

"Um, a chocolate milkshake. Please." Liam turns his attention to the other players, shouting, "Boys, order up or go home!” Louis brings Liam's water and Zayn's milkshake a few minutes later. Winking as he places the milkshake, with two straws, down on the table between the two boys.

Liam scarfs down his burger like he's been starving for days, and also the fries that Louis snuck into the basket. Zayn is trying to drink his milkshake as quickly as possible without getting brain freeze.

Liam's chin thunks down onto Zayn's shoulder, his breath tickling his ear. Zayn shivers at the feeling, but he’ll pretend that it's from the cold shake. "I'm glad you're here, Zayn. I was so thrilled you came to the game too, you have no idea how much it means to me. And we won, so now you're my official good luck charm."

Liam had to know that what he was saying was so ridiculous and cliche, but god, Zayn didn't even care. Never before in his life had he been the center of anyone's attention. His parents tried, but he had established his independent streak earlier on, so they pretty much left him alone.

Liam is like the Sun to this school. Everything revolves around his brightness, and deservedly so. What does the Sun care about Pluto, and yet there it is, trying to soak up any heat that it can in it's lonely orbit, different from all the others'.

What is he supposed to do with this? What if he reciprocates and Liam pulls away, just wanting to have a little fun with the new guy, a change of pace as it were. He feels the sharp tip of Liam's nose, nudging along his neck. "Say you'll go to the movies with me tomorrow. We'll go to dinner at a real restaurant afterwards." Liam rumbles into his skin. Zayn feels like he's been electrocuted, the current running up and down his body makes him feel simultaneously alive and like it will kill him. 

"Don't think about it. Just say yes. Please." He doesn’t expect to small whine to come out of Liam's mouth. "Um. I-" This isn't even fair anymore. How is he supposed to tell Liam that he has to be confused about who he's with tonight? That Zayn isn’t who he apparently thinks he is. He could go to the movies with anyone in the school. But the hint of teeth scraping along the vein in his neck is enough to make Zayn gulp and manage to just squeak out "I guess, but-" before Liam is back in his seat, looking chipper as ever, "Great, I'll pick you up at six." This is so not fair.

————

Zayn is sitting in his window, chain smoking like he hasn't in weeks. Liam looked like shit in school today, so Zayn made a bad joke about playing nurse for him that night. Mostly he thought they could watch movies in his bed and Zayn could heat him some soup, maybe feed it to him. But Liam turned him down, unable to give a reason why. Now he isn't responding to texts.

Zayn has been chastising himself all night for how stupid the joke was. Now absolutely convinced that Liam had been disgusted by him. Just because he wants to hold hands doesn't mean he wants to do...other stuff...with Zayn. He’s sitting in his window, thinking about how to fix this when he hears the leaves in the tree line at the edge of his lawn rustle.

A familiar nose sticks out of the bushes, the wolf from a few weeks ago was back. A paw steps onto the grass, and then another. But the wolf backpedals, seeming to rethink. It stumbles onto the grass, having made up its mind. Can a wolf make up its mind? Its head tilts up towards Zayn's window, catching his eye. Well, it seems like someone still wanted him.

Zayn drops the butt into a cup of water he has next to him and clambers out the window. He had put a piece of rope behind the trellis, just in case the wolf came back. The wolf gallops across the yard, skidding to a stop in front of Zayn, running its nose up Zayn's calf and resting its cheek on his thigh. "Hey there, gorgeous. I got you a toy!" The wolf seems content to just sit against Zayn, but if Zayn wants to play, then they will play. It takes the end of the rope in its mouth, starting a game of tug-o-war. The look on its face says it all: this was a gross indignity to its status as an apex predator, but Zayn looks so delighted that it would debase itself to playing a game for pups.

"I'm so glad you came back. I've had a crap day. I think I really messed things up with this boy. And I'm not sure what I did wrong, so I don't know how to make things better." The wolf stops tugging, but Zayn needs this, the mindless exercise with an animal that he has really come to trust, even in the short time it has been around. 

Zayn also just really needs to talk to someone about this. Harry and Niall are great, but he doesn’t want this getting back to Liam, even if they’re trying to help. He just wants to vent, and to not be told that he’s being irrational. 

They continue their battle for a while longer, Zayn letting out all of his emotions, tugging as hard as he could, but ultimately losing his hold on the rope. The wolf takes the opportunity to run into the woods and 'lose' the toy, before returning to where Zayn is sitting on the wet grass.

A big head slumps down into Zayn's lap. Zayn is trying not to cry, the distraction from his heartbreak has not lasted long. "You know, I knew this would happen," long fingers tangle in the thick fur of the wolf's neck, "I don't know why I thought he was different. I trusted him. I trusted Harry and Niall too. And I'm probably being stupid, but I wish that he hadn't even talked to me. It was easier to be ignored when it was the only thing I knew." 

A sharp whine breaks through his rambling. "I mean, he could really be sick and I'm just being dumb. But I really feel like Liam is keeping something from me." The wolf looks like it’s trying to climb into Zayn at the last comment, pushing forward so its face is smashed up against Zayn’s stomach.

"It's getting late. I should, um, go up to bed." The wolf doesn’t move, like it’s not willing to leave Zayn like this, maybe it can smell the salt, knows the tears are coming; but Zayn somehow knows it isn’t going to let Zayn cry himself to sleep alone in his room.

The wolf shifts so its body covers Zayn's torso, forcing him to lean against the wall of his house. The warmth and comfort lulls Zayn into slumber, the snuffling of a big wet nose against his neck and the last bugs left in late fall the only noises that he can hear.

————

A bright beam of sunlight pierces through the veil of sleep, waking Zayn up. “That's weird,” he usually closed his blinds to block the Sun. The next thing he notices is his soaked butt. And a weight, much heavier than his blankets, draped over his numb legs.

He cracks an eye open. And what an eyeful he gets. Liam Payne is was passed out in Zayn's lap, his open mouth leaking drool onto Zayn's hoodie. They were sitting under the kitchen window, the noises of his mother and father making breakfast alerting Zayn to how dire this situation was.

He has at most half an hour before his mum pounded down his bedroom door. And god help them if she decided to refill the bird feeder outside the window. This is a disaster, what the fuck even happened last night? Zayn would have to put off demanding answers until he and Liam were safe, away from his parents.

Pushing a half-asleep, naked Liam up the side of a house is both exhilarating and terrifying. He doesn’t feel too bad for sneaking a peek, because obviously something happened last night. 

When they tumble through his window, Zayn scrambles away from the other boy. He throws a pair of track pants and a sweater at Liam- they are not going to have this conversation any other way than fully clothed. 

He needs answers, and will not be swayed by the way his jumper stretches over broad shoulders, or the way Liam’s nose crinkles (why is he always sniffing?) as he took in Zayn’s room.

They sit down awkwardly on Zayn’s bed, the time for this conversation slipping rapidly away. Liam is picking at the sleeve, pulling at the same knotted thread that Zayn can’t help but fidget with whenever he wears that sweater. They are looking at anything but each other, faces flushing when their eyes accidentally meet as they glance nervously around the room. 

Zayn takes a deep breath, digging around in himself to find the last vestiges of courage he has left. He’s spent after their life or death mission past the kitchen window. “So, uh- what happened last night? Because I was sitting with the...neighbor’s dog, and then I wake up and there you are.”

It’s like the floodgates rip open, “I’m so sorry, Zayn. You just smelled so good, and I couldn’t help it, and God, you were so nice, so I had to meet you and you were still so nice. I told myself once was enough, but then the moon was so pretty and I wanted to see if you were so pretty too. I couldn’t resist. And I could smell how sad you, and I just want to make you not smell sad, Zayn.”

Zayn’s head is reeling. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?”

Liam scratches his head like he always does when he’s nervous. And since when does Zayn know what Liam does while feeling different emotions?

“Zayn, I- fuck. I’m not exactly human. Please just let me explain.”

“Are you a vampire? Because if you’re a vampire I’m going to drench that copy of Twilight in holy water, attempt to close the portal, and burn it.”

“No. Good guess, though.” Liam pauses, like he’s building himself up for something big, “before I- before I tell you, can I do one thing?” Zayn nods, wondering what Liam could want to do. His train of thought is cut off, though, by soft lips brushing against his. A large hand cups Zayn’s cheek, cradling him softly; the other hand brushes past his ribs, into the dip where his back ends, like Liam doesn’t want to ever let go.

“I really like you, ok? And last night, I really wanted everything that you said, no joke. I never want you to second guess yourself with me. Even if this doesn’t go any farther than right now, I want you to always feel like you can talk to me.” Liam speaks softly, his forehead pressed against Zayn’s. 

He closes his eyes, “I’m the wolf that’s been coming to you during the full moon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](http://ameliaproblems.tumblr.com/)


End file.
